


Come Back to Me

by kinginspanx



Series: Immortal Soulmates [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, During and Post TGC, M/M, Vampire Harry, Werewolf Merlin, protective werewolf Merlin, soft and kind lepidopterist Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-06 17:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinginspanx/pseuds/kinginspanx
Summary: Merlin dealing with the pain of facing his immortal soulmate that couldn't remember him--and worse, was afraid of him because the very nature of their kinds being enemy since the dawn of time. As the doomsday clock ticked, Merlin raced to revive Harry's memory in time for him to help them save the world, once again. Merlin would try anything, even if he have to sacrifice his own blood so that the real Harry Hart would wake from his slumber.





	1. Their First Second Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of "Blood and Moon". This is amnesiac, soft lepidopterist vampire!Harry with angsty, protective and desperate werewolf!Merlin. Again, the work is not beta-ed, and I'm not a native English speaker. So apology in advance for the shitty writing.

**Saville Row**

“I should have seen it. Charlie… the taxi… the arm… This is all my fault”.

Merlin sobbed as he wiped his nose with his white handkerchief. Eggsy and Merlin had been drinking the whisky they found in Kingsman’s Doomsday Protocol save for almost an hour now. The bottle was almost empty and they had stripped themselves down to their white shirts. Even in the alcoholic haze from the whisky, Eggsy couldn’t helped but marvel at how beefed up Merlin was without the usual cloak of his boring grey sweater. The quartermaster had a built of a bodybuilder. Eggsy even dared say that Merlin could give The Rock a run for his money. Merlin’s arms were practically the size of Eggsy’s thigh. And he was so ripped that his white shirt could barely contain all of his big muscles. Eggsy wondered how Merlin could move at all with his shirt tightly fitting his bulky body like that.

“Nah. You’re the best, bruv”. Eggsy said, Merlin shook his head and sobbed more.

Merlin loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, Eggsy couldn’t help but raised his brows when he saw the thick black hair sprouting from inside of Merlin’s shirt. That’s when he finally noticed the thick hair on Merlin’s arms too—as the quartermaster rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows. The young agent was so used to seeing Merlin fully wrapped up in his Kingsman uniform—the grey sweater and the Blackwatch tartan field jacket—that he’d never given it a thought how Merlin actually looked like underneath all of those wrappings.

Though Eggsy did remember being taken aback a bit when Harry Hart—his old mentor—first brought him to Kingsman and introduced him to Merlin. He remembered being a bit intimidated by how big and muscular Merlin was—even in the confine of his nerdy tech sweater and black-rimmed glasses. He was about the same height as his old mentor, but Merlin’s body was almost twice as bulky as Harry’s; and he’d imagined the quartermaster could break his body in two if he wanted to. Which led Eggsy to remember, he did use to wonder why someone who looked like he was stronger than two Kingsman agents combined—and Eggsy knew this first-hand, as Merlin knocked him and the rest of the trainees, with such ease during their hand-to-hand training—was put in a desk position like Merlin? He’d imagined Merlin would’ve made a fantastic field agent.

“I think we should drink tae Scotland”. Merlin said as he reached for the bottle.

“Nah, bruv. I think you’ve had enough…” Eggsy took the bottle away from Merlin.

He glanced down at the bottle, debating whether he should finish it himself so that Merlin couldn’t. Then he noticed the label inside the bottle: “Distilled in Kentucky”. Eggsy turned to Merlin, but a sudden realization hit him. He turned to the label again and noticed the “K” in “Kentucky” had a circle around it, just like the Kingsman logo.

“Merlin… I think we’re going to Kentucky”. Eggsy said.

“Fried chicken?” Merlin murmured hazily as he wiped his glasses with his handkerchief. “I love fried chicken…”

“What—No, Merlin. Look”. Eggsy put the bottle on the table in front of Merlin.

“Ye know what else I love?” Merlin grinned lazily as he put his glasses back on. “Country music… Country roads, take me home…”

Merlin started singing a country song that Eggsy couldn’t recognize in his low heavy voice. It was such a weird thing to see someone like Merlin—the man who literally trained him to be a proper spy; the one that told him that there was no time for emotions in their scenarios—were drunk singing country music in front of him.

The quartermaster reached for the bottle as he continued singing. “To the place I belong…West—“

Then his big green eyes went wide when he noticed the same clue that Eggsy found.

 

* * *

 

 

**Kentucky**

 

Eggsy woke up with a little sore on his neck. As he remembered of the cause of the pain, he tried to raise his gund and fire. But to his surprise, not only was he not holding a gun, he couldn’t move, and he quickly realized why. He was tied to a chair. Both his hands and legs were tied so hard that they went cold from the block of the blood flow. Eggsy glanced to his side and found Merlin, in the exact condition as he was, and was beginning to come around.

The cowboy that Eggsy remembered darting his neck with his own watch was standing a couple of feet away in front of them, arms crossed. He was no longer carrying his shotgun. Eggsy realized that they were in an interrogation chamber. They were surrounded with grey concrete wall and floor, harsh lighting, and a huge opaque window behind the desk that the cowboy was leaning on. Eggsy instinctively guessed that the window was a one-way mirror, and there must be someone on the other side of the room—watching them. On top of the table that the cowboy was leaning on, rested a bottle of Statesman whisky.

The cowboy asked both Merlin and Eggsy to explain how they ended up at Statesman distillery, and Eggsy began to wobbly explain their whole journey. Expectedly, the cowboy didn’t believe them. He scoffed at their story and started to threaten them by ridiculously pouring whisky on their clothes and threatening to light them on fire. He even accused them of covering their failed mission to save a lepidopterist from Statesman—a word that meant nothing to Eggsy, if he’s being honest. When the threat took no effect on Eggsy and Merlin, the cowboy looked at them both with an unreadable expression and clicked his lighter shut.

“Nothing to protect but your honor, huh?” he said. “Let’s see what happens if we change that up”.

He slipped the lighter back inside his pocket and reached for a switch on a panel next to the window. The cowboy flipped it on and the opaque window suddenly became clear, revealing that Eggsy’s guess was wrong. The window was not used by someone on the other room to observe them, it was quite the opposite.

A young handsome man, wearing a grey tracksuit was standing behind the window. He was standing by a sink, looking into the mirror as he shaved. The walls of the room were white and padded, decorated with hand-drawn pictures and scribbled of colourful butterflies—there were probably hundreds of them, all different types. Eggsy watched with narrow eyes as he felt a sense of strong familiarity from the young man at the other side of the room.

He was particularly entranced by the glorious ruffles of dark brown hair decorating the top of his head, he could tell that it was styled like one of those ridiculous hairstyles that the bloody One Direction boys put on—but somehow it suited the young man beautifully. Eggsy’s hunch told him that the young man was probably no older than 20. He was also built nicely, as Eggsy could see his perfectly ripped lean muscles sculpting his tracksuit. As Eggsy’s gaze wandered through the young man’s body—and his thought slipped to think that it’s not hard to fancy the man if he were not already in a relationship with Tilde—he noticed something particularly strange with his eyes—they were _red_.

“Oh my God… Harry!”

Eggsy quickly turned to Merlin as he watched the quartermaster gasped at the sight of the young man before them. His eyes were wet, and Eggsy could tell that he was trying hard to hold back his tears. But Eggsy didn’t get it, why did Merlin call the young man _Harry_? Is he someone he knew?

The cowboy smiled—satisfied at seeing Merlin’s reaction. He drew his gun and aimed at the young man through the glass. “Look at him. Smiling like a dead pig in the sunshine. You have three seconds to tell me the truth”, he said. “One…”

“W-wait!” Eggsy didn’t know the young man as Merlin probably did, but he wouldn’t let the cowboy kill an innocent person on his behalf. “Oy! You there!!! Get the fuck out of there!!!” Eggsy shouted.

“He can’t hear you,” the cowboy said. “But I can. So talk. Two…”

Eggsy was about to shout again at the young man. But he was distracted by the absence of sound and panic coming from Merlin. He turned to his quartermaster and found him glaring at the cowboy with the scariest look that Eggsy had ever seen coming from Merlin. The last time Eggsy saw Merlin that horrifyingly angry was when he knocked off his old mug from his desk—almost breaking it.

“Ye know bloody well that he cannae be hurt by ye.” Merlin said coldly in his deep voice—his tone was heavy—like he was choking—as if he was holding back himself from shouting. “So why don’t ye stop fucking around and tell _yer colleague_ out there tae come inside so we can all be _civilised_?”

The hair on the back of Eggsy’s neck stood on an end as he listened to Merlin’s deep threatening voice—for a second he almost thought that he heard a growl coming from his quartermaster. The cowboy narrowed his eyes at Merlin’s reply, his head tilted as he analysed every words. Then suddenly a woman’s voice called out, “Stop!”

The three men quickly turned their attention to the direction of the sound. They found the door on the right side of the interrogation room opened, and a beautiful African-American woman, with a short hair and a pair of similar glasses as Merlin’s stepped in. She wore a black sweater vest over a white blouse, and a bolo tie made from a thin black ribbon. Before Eggsy could properly notice the stuffs that she was carrying on her hands, the woman threw something at the cowboy. And only when he caught it that Eggsy realized that it was a black umbrella—oddly similar to the ones commonly owned by Kingsman.

“Their story checks out,” she said while wiping both of Eggsy and Merlin’s wet clothes with dry towel. “I just opened our doomsday scenario locker. That umbrella was in it—Kingsman brand. Look at the S, it has _our_ logo on it”.

The cowboy looked down and observed the umbrella. Then he burst into laughter. “Apologies, boys”. He said while walking towards Merlin and Eggsy.

“No hard feelings, I hope. Just doing my job”. The cowboy bent down and began to untie Eggsy, while Ginger did the same for Merlin.

“Welcome to Statesman! Independent intelligence agency—just like you, I guess.” The cowboy continued once he finished untying Eggsy. “Only our founders went into the booze business, thank the sweet Lord above”. He made a cross sign and looked up to the ceiling. “This is Ginger Ale, our Strategy Executive. And I’m Agent Tequila”.

Eggsy scoffed but took the agent’s hand when he extended it to him for a shake. Tequila offered to shake Merlin’s hand too when he was finished with Eggsy. But the quartermaster left him cold as his gaze was still intently fixed at the young man—who by then has finished shaving and was wiping his face with a towel. Eggsy recognized the look on Merlin’s face. He had seen that expression before. The pain and anguish in Merlin’s hazel green eyes. The tight clench of his jaws—holding back all of his buried emotions that were begging to burst out. Eggsy had seen it when he visited Merlin’s quarter while he was changing Harry’s status on Kingsman database to _deceased_.

“You know what he _really_ is, don’t you?” Ginger asked in a soft voice beside Merlin.

Merlin blinked—he looked down to hide his expression as he composed himself. Then he turned to Ginger with his usual cold, emotionless look.

“Yes. I was his handler fae over 30 years”. Merlin said.

A weird sense of realization started to creep into Eggsy’s mind as he glanced back and forth between Merlin and the familiar young man. But he found himself denying the conclusion that his mind proposed, as it was hardly logical.

“Then you understand why we had to keep him in there”. Ginger said—her eyes grew cautious.

Merlin nodded and glanced back at the young man. “I knew the bullet couldn’t have killed him. But why didn’t he contact us?”

Ginger and Merlin shared a look, then she gestured for him and Eggsy to follow her. She led them out of the interrogation room and into the hallway outside, Tequila following them at the back. Ginger stopped at a door with a biometric lock—similar to the ones Eggsy hacked into when they infiltrated the distillery—and pressed her palm to the panel. As they waited for the door to unlock its multiple layers of mechanism, Eggsy noticed Tequila taking one of his guns from the holsters on his belt—his stance ready to fire at whatever was coming from behind the door. But then the door unlocked and revealed the young man they saw from the window, still standing in front of the sink.

His face lighted up in delight when he saw Ginger at the door. But then Merlin rushed inside—past Ginger—and the young man’s face suddenly turned blue, his red eyes drenched in fear. He was backing away just as Merlin stepped closer. Eggsy followed Merlin into the room—just because he still couldn’t quite trust the young man, and despite how big and muscular his handler was; he couldn’t risk losing another friend—Ginger and Tequila remained in the doorway, watching.

“Harry, it’s me, Merlin”. The handler said in his soft, deep voice. There was affection in Merlin’s tone that sounded so unfamiliar to the cold and stern voice that Eggsy used to listen in his ears.

The young man retreated into the corner of the room, furthering himself more from Merlin. His eyes searched pass Merlin and Eggsy to Ginger who was standing outside the door. “Ginger… why did you let them come inside?” The young man’s voice quivered.

Eggsy let out a silent gasp as he recognized the deep, silky, elegant voice that came out of the young man’s mouth. He could feel a migraine coming as his mind spiralled with the strange reality that was unfolding before him. Eggsy looked up to the young man’s face, carefully observing his face—this time with a specific comparison and checklist in mind. Those big eyes… the dimples on his cheeks… the cleft on his chin… replace those horrifying red eyes with a pair of hazel brown…

Merlin stepped forward cautiously, and he began speaking slowly and softly. “Harry—it’s been a long time and my brogues need tae be resoled”.

The young man looked at Merlin in horror. Eggsy could see his body started to tremble. “Ginger, get this man out of my room!” He pleaded in fear—his breaths came short.

“Harry—“ Merlin reached out his hand to the young man.

But in a revelation that seemed to almost break Eggsy’s mortal mind, the young man screamed “No!” and disappeared from the left corner of the room and reappeared on the right in the blink of an eye. Eggsy thought his jaw was going to dislocate from gaping too wide at the scene. His first reaction was to draw the Tokarev inside the holster beneath his suit, but it was no longer there and Eggsy cursed in his head at the realization that Tequila must have taken it.

The young man clawed the padded wall with his fingers like he was fighting for his life. His red eyes started to shine as black veins slowly appeared on the surface of his face, which was now as white as a corpse. Suddenly the toiletries on top of the sink and various drawing tools on the table at the back of the room started shake and dropped to the floor. Eggsy could hear the glass on the big one-way mirror started vibrating—like it was ready to shatter.

“John, calm down!” Ginger rushed inside the room and pulled Merlin away from the young man as she slowly stepped towards him.

Tequila followed behind, his arms levelled—gun ready and aimed at the young man’s direction. Eggsy watched the Statesman handler and agent walked slowly in perfect sync—Ginger carefully closing in on the young man, while Tequila crept at an angle where he could take a direct shot towards the young man’s heart.

“It’s alright, John. He’s not going to hurt you, I’m here.” Ginger said softly, her voice full of genuine compassion.

The young man’s bright red eyes travelled from Merlin and back to Ginger as the handler took a couple of slow step back from the young man. “I’m here, John. Look at me, it’s going to be alright. Just take a deep breath, okay?”

The young man’s eyes glanced at Ginger—pleading to be saved. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s right, John. Deep breath... everything’s gonna be alright... I’m here...”

The glass on the one-way mirror suddenly stopped vibrating, and the various small things all over the room stopped dropping. Ginger took a couple of steps closer towards the young man and gently stroke his hand when she reached him. The young man opened his red eyes and looked at Ginger apologetically—as if feeling guilty for the mess he made.

“It’s alright, John. I’m here”. Ginger said as she continued gently stroking his arm.

Tequila lowered his gun and turned to Merlin and Eggsy. “Think you boys should wait outside now. We’ll catch up once we get him to calm down”.

Merlin took Tequila’s words like the man was stabbing him with his big cowboy knife. His jaw clenched tightly as his green eyes glared at the Statesman. But then Eggsy could see that it was more a look of pain rather than anger. The handler nodded in silence and walked outside the room. Eggsy followed, but managed to steal a quick second look at the young man, who was now seating on the floor with his arms crossed around his knees as his head leaned into it. Ginger was kneeling beside him, stroking his back gently and whispering to his ears.

 

* * *

 

 

Hamish took heavy and painful steps towards the door as he closed his eyes and tried his best to control his emotions. Nothing could describe the pain and anguish he felt when he stared into the big red eyes of his immortal lover—the person whom he shared the past 30 years with.

There was nothing in Harry’s eyes but fear and horror as he stared into Hamish’s. He could feel Harry’s natural instinct ordering the Kingsman to guard himself in Hamish’s presence—warning the vampire as the immortal enemy of his kind was standing right in front of him. After almost two years of thinking that he had lost his love forever—or worse, that Harry had decided to leave him—as Hamish knew that the bullet couldn’t have killed him. Standing just a couple of feet away but unable to touch his lover because he was mortified by Hamish’s mere presence, was not what the handler was expecting when his heart leapt in happiness when he first saw Harry through the one-way mirror.

“Merlin, what the fuck is going on?! Who the fuck was that bloke? And why did he fucking sound like—“

“Not now, Eggsy”. Hamish unintentionally snarled at Eggsy. He was not ready to deal with the young man’s rapid inquiries nor was he ready to reveal the secret that he had been trained and ordered to keep with all of his power through most his life.

Keeping Harry’s and his own true nature a secret was not only a cardinal rule ordered by his old treacherous leader, Chester King. It was also the only way for the both of them to co-exist peacefully with the humans. God knows the mortals can be erratic and illogical with beings they’re unable to apprehend or those who possessed far greater power than them. So it wouldn’t be easy for Hamish to reveal everything to Eggsy—or anyone, at least, not yet.

He knew he would have to, Eggsy was a brilliant boy and he had already recognized Harry’s voice. The Statesman already identified Harry for what he truly was, Hamish surmised that they probably had handled him on his worst days too—judging from how aptly they handled Harry’s panic attack. So surely, they would be asking questions; and Hamish figured the Statesman wouldn’t be so generous to help him and Eggsy with their cause if he couldn’t be transparent with them in the first place.

“The fuck, bruv?! You can’t just shut me up. That bloke was literally teleporting himself in there—he straight up made the whole room shaking!” Eggsy shouted.

“It wasn’t teleportation, he just moved faster than yer mortal eyes could follow”. Hamish replied absently—trying to shut off Eggsy’s loud voice.

Eggsy was about to open his mouth when the door opened, revealing a tired looking Ginger and tense Tequila. They both stared at Hamish with a stern look, as if blaming him for getting Harry agitated and causing all the commotion.

“What the fuck did ye do tae him?” Hamish asked in a cold tone. He was not going to let them have the first word. Harry Hart was an immortal vampire, and no bullet could kill or harm him. The man Hamish met inside didn’t recognize him or Eggsy—his own protégé. So something must be gravely wrong with him.

“I think you mean ‘Thank for saving my buddy’s life’”. Tequila said, irritated.

“He would have survived even without your help”. Hamish snapped.

“He has retrograde amnesia”. Ginger explained with a kind voice, standing between Hamish and Tequila before the two big men got themselves into ridiculous trouble. “We knew from his eyeglasses than he worked for an intelligence agency. We just didn’t know whose. And… with his nature…” Ginger’s eyes stared at Hamish’s, but he could feel that her gaze was far away, deep in her thoughts. “I hope you understand why we had to keep him like this. He killed three of our medical staffs when he first woke”.

“And he almost tore off my neck”, quipped Tequila. His face still looked like he had not forgiven Harry for almost killing him.

“I don’t understand. How can he have amnesia? His cells can regenerate almost instantly. The bullet shouldn’t have left this much damage”. Hamish protested. He could see Eggsy looking at him with crazy eyes and opened mouth from the corner of his eyes.

“That would be true if the bullet didn’t explode inside his brain, and the added lasting effect of the extreme low frequency from Valentine’s SIM card had not interfered his neural pathways”. Ginger answered patiently.

Hamish found himself speechless and on the verge of exploding. He could feel anger building up inside his stomach, burning him from the inside. Valentine fucking shot his lover with an exploding bullet. In that moment, he wished that he had killed the bloody megalomaniac himself, so that he could severed his head and ripped his heart from his chest with his own hand.

“How about you? Don’t you have some explaining to do yourself?” Tequila asked in a challenging tone. “I babysit him for almost two years, ain’t never seen him went cuckoo that fast”.

Hamish glared at Tequila, he could feel his eyes slipping into its yellow werewolf shade. And for a second, Ginger and Tequila caught a glimpse of it. The Statesman agent quickly draw his gun from the holster on his belt and levelled it at Hamish.

“Oy! Fuck bruv, calm down”. Eggsy swiftly stepped in front of Hamish, covering him from Tequila’s aim.

“You’re like him, aren’t you? Is that why he freaked out when he saw you?” asked Tequila as he kept his aim at Hamish.

Hamish closed his eyes and focus his mind to calm his impulses. “No”. Hamish answered plainly. His eyes had turned back to its normal green shade. “Let’s just say he was naturally built to dislike people like me”.

Ginger’s hand reached for his glasses, as if she just received a message from someone. She then quickly held Tequila’s arm, signalling the agent to put down his gun. “We know what your friend truly is, and some extent of what he’s capable of. But there were still way too many questions left unanswered. And you haven’t told us exactly why you’re here too. I’ve just received a message from our boss, he’s asked to see you. So I suggest we all meet him and discuss everything in a more formal setting”. Ginger said.

Hamish put his hand on Eggsy’s shoulder and stood beside him. “Agreed”. He said.

As Hamish followed the two Statesman to meet their leader, he gathered himself and searched for some strength in him. _Mission comes first. There’s no room for emotions in this scenario._ Hamish remembered those words like it had just been told to him yesterday. He might have used it at Eggsy, but in truth, the words were Harry’s. The only agent Hamish ever handled that could perfectly separate his emotions and locked it inside him like an impenetrable vault. It was one of the things he admired and hated most about his lover. Right now, Hamish wanted to scream from the top of his lungs and wailed his cries over the pain that the love of his life couldn’t remember his own existence; and worse, was scared shitless in his presence. He couldn’t even take Harry and cloaked him in his embrace—let alone kiss that sweet soft lips of his. But the world was once again in the brink of destruction, and as always, mission comes first. So Hamish bit his lip, drew a long breath, and buried his emotions as deep as he could.


	2. Not Your Usual Vampire

“Harry is a fucking VAMPIRE?!” Eggsy shouted from the top of his lungs, his eyes looked like they were about to pop from its sockets. “So that bloke in the room was really—but he looked so—Harry was like fucking 50s?!” Eggsy continued to shriek, unaware of the three Statesman sitting in the boardroom, staring at him.

“One of vampire’s ability was tae shapeshift, they could transform their physique into anyone they want tae. In this case, Harry used it tae age himself as normal human does tae blend in with the rest of the Kingsman”. Hamish answered casually. “But in his true form, he will always look the way he did when he was first turned”.

“Merlin, he looks barely 20! Fuck, I look older than he is! You’re saying that he’s been a vampire since he was that young?!” snapped Eggsy.

“Vampires do tend tae choose the young ones as their progenies”. Hamish shrugged. “They want tae freeze the age right at the peak of their beauty, ye see”.

Eggsy dropped to his seat, Hamish could feel the young agent had worn out all of his strength from freaking out over the revelation. Eggsy gazed far away as he sank in all of the information. Hamish had told him—and the Statesman—almost everything necessary about Harry. But he was careful not to mention anything about himself. As long as he could control his power, Statesman had no business knowing what he truly was.

“So… does he… drink blood?” Eggsy sounded like he was afraid to ask, and even more horrified to hear the answer.

“’Course he drinks blood, boy. He’s fucking vampire! Ain’t ya ever watch one of ‘em Twilight movies?” Tequila snarled from the end of the table, where he sat next to Champ—The Statesman leader.

“But, he drank martini—I watched him ate breakfast with me…” murmured Eggsy, his mind still in a haze.

“That’s actually a valid question. I wondered about that too”. Ginger interrupted from the other end of the table, where she was standing in front of the monitor. Just like Kingsman, even when the seats were empty, they were only reserved for the Knights.

Hamish took a quick glance at Champ, who was sitting at the far opposite end of the table from Ginger’s side and found him gazing at him behind his Statesman aviator glasses with narrow eyes. The seasoned Statesman had been doing it ever since he laid eyes on Hamish. He could sense that Champ was carefully analysing every bit of expression and gestures Hamish made—figuring out whether he was telling the truth. There was also a lingering sense of mystery in the man’s eyes, like he knew more than he let on. It irked Hamish to the bone, because it’s the same vibe that he used to feel from Chester King.

“Yes, well… Harry is quite significantly different from the rest of his kind. He was gifted many privilege that the rest of his kind was cursed of”. Hamish was getting a bit uncomfortable as the questions got more detailed.

“Like walking in the sunlight, you mean?” Champ finally broke his silence. The old man let out a satisfied smirk when he saw Hamish’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Or maybe the fact that the ol’ stake to the heart thing don’t work on him?”

“You tried to kill him?!” Eggsy gasped, he almost sounded angry.

“He killed three of our people, and not to mention he’s probably the most dangerous predator on this planet—so heck yeah, we tried to kill him”. Champ answered grimly—his eyes bore the same grudge that Hamish saw in Tequila’s eyes when he told him of his first encounter with Harry.

“The only reason he’s still alive is because we can’t find anything to kill the damn monster”. Champ snarled.

“He’s not a monster!” Eggsy slammed his fist to the table and rose from his seat.

Hamish quickly grabbed his hand to calm the boy down. Fortunately, Eggsy was quick enough to realize his forwardness and sat himself back down. The room fell was sucked into an awkward silence as Eggsy gathered his strength to compose himself.

“I’m assuming the boy hasn’t seen what the vampire is _really_ capable of, huh?” Champ muttered in a cold voice as he picked up a cigar from the box in front of him.

“His name is Harry”. Hamish quipped. “And I doubt _any_ of you have seen what Harry is _really_ capable of”. He tried not to be snarky at the people who was probably his last hope to save the world—and Kingsman existence.

Hamish also understood their background for calling Harry a monster; as Ginger and Champ said, they lost three people. And Harry had been with them for almost two years, he couldn’t imagine the danger and pain that the Statesman had to go through during at least Harry’s first 6 months here. If Harry truly forgot all of his memories, then he must have forgotten how to control his powers too. It pained him to imagine the suffering that Harry had to go through, as he was stripped of his control, and forced to be reduced into a mindless bloodlust monster, yet again.

“Sorry, Champ, if I may?” Ginger broke the silence. Champ nodded in approval. “Though I agree, learning more about Jo—Harry’s—nature and abilities could be insightful. I believe The Kingsman are here in a doomsday scenario, so I’m guessing there must be a pressing matter that deserves our attention more?”

Champ cleared his throat, Merlin could sense his shame for getting a little carried away, just like the rest of them. “Yes, you’re quite right, Ginger.” Then he turned to Hamish and Eggsy. “So, let’s get down to business. As your American cousins, I’m placing all of Statesman’s _considerably larger_ resources—“ He pointed at the screen behind Ginger, in which shows a Bloomberg graphic of Statesman’s stock—“at your disposal.”

Champ looked at Tequila. “Hey, Tequila, can you imagine _us_ in the clothing business?”

“Sends a shiver down my spine, sir,” Tequila quipped.

Champ poured whisky for the four of them from the bottle on his table, and then turned his attention to Eggsy and Hamish. “Despite a strange preference in an agent, you boys mentioned it was _you_ who saved the world from Valentine. Impressive. We dropped the ball there.” He shot Tequila a sharp glance. “And it happened here on our turf—right under our noses—so maybe we shouldn’t poke fun. Kingsman’s clearly worth saving. Now, how else can I help you?”

Hamish filled the Statesman in on the attack and the leads that they had. Eggsy found Charlie’s girlfriend twitter account and thought it was their best lead to find the traitorous ex-recruit. They’ve decided to assign Eggsy and Whiskey—it was supposed to be Tequila, but he suddenly fell ill with weird blue rashes all over his body—on a honeypot mission to Glastonbury, where Charlie’s girlfriend was spending her weekend. Eggsy left almost immediately to meet up with Agent Whiskey in New York before flying to London.

That left Hamish with Champ and Ginger in the room. And after a long—and quite heated—argument with Champ, Hamish managed to convince him that it was saver for everyone if Harry got his memories back. Harry might be dangerous, but he would be deadly without his control. Thankfully Ginger agreed with Hamish, and Champ finally gave them his approval to do whatever they could to jog Harry’s memories.

As Hamish walked back to the medical bay where Harry was kept, Ginger filled him in on the time that Harry spent in Statesman. She showed Hamish the footage on her phone, of the day when Harry first woke up from his operation. It was a fucking bloodbath. He had seen Harry using his full power, but he had never seen him lost total control like this before. Even when he was at the church, it was mortal violence that he committed—he didn’t go around sucking the blood of the church members like he couldn’t control his thirst.

But the Harry in Ginger’s video was purely a monster. He was stripped off all of his control and humanity. What awoken that day was a monster fuelled with nothing but thirst and hunger for human blood. In the video, the Statesman managed to stop Harry by literally electrocuting him with three defibrillators at the same time.

There were about a dozen more videos of Harry’s rabid episodes in Ginger’s files, but Hamish couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was not that much different than Harry. He was too, a monster. Hamish knew perfectly too well what it’s like to watch oneself became a monster. To see one’s humanity being stripped off, to feel powerless as one unable to control one’s own body. It was the darkest moment in Hamish’s life.

And he had Harry to thank for saving him from that hell. If it weren’t for Harry, Hamish would still be killing dozens of people once full moon came. Now that Harry was being dragged back into the same hell, it was Hamish’s turn to return the favor.


	3. How They Look Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fan art of how Werewolf!Merlin and Vampire!Harry looks like in this fic. Mind you, Harry is supposed to be 19 here. So I modelled it after Young Colin Firth. This is Lepidopterist-Vampire!Harry, there should be another drawing of Galahad-Vampire!Harry soon.

Here's the ripped & bulky (also fully bearded) Werewolf!Merlin:

Werewolf!Merlin is a cuddler. So imagine those big, muscled arms wrapping Harry and purring into his ears as Harry plays with his beard. 

 

And here's lepidopterist-vampire!Harry:

This Harry is all smile, and soft and innocent because like in the movie, he only remembers up to the moment where he wanted to become a lepidopterist. 


	4. Broken

Hamish watched from the interrogation room—which now he knew was more of an observation room—as Ginger came into Harry’s cell and greeted him. The way Harry’s face lighted up when he saw her—that sweet and angelic look on his face, it reminded him of the days when they first met. When Harry spent almost an entire week courting Hamish, only to assess if he was aware of his condition and how far his transformation had undergone. Harry Hart was a cold hearted bastard. He played with Hamish’s heart and exploited his feelings; but he did it all to save Hamish. If he hadn’t done that, Hamish would have stayed a mindless, murderous werewolf.

Hamish watched from behind the one-way mirror as Harry apologized profusely for the panic episode that he had earlier. He observed intently as Harry blubbered his way through his apology, how he was afraid to look at Gingers eyes, and the soft, timid tone in his voice. _This_ Harry was _innocent_ in all of his monstrosity. The person on the other side of the mirror didn’t have the decades of training and experience needed to control the accumulated power that Harry had gain through the years. Hamish’s lover was a powerful vampire even in his younger days. Harry was different from his kind, somehow he was invulnerable to the weaknesses that the rest of his kind had. He was also almost twice stronger than the usual vampire.

But even the usual vampires would become stronger as they grew older. The same thing happened to Harry, but in a significantly exponential manner. By the time Harry reached 40, he had stopped using the dark realm entirely. And he never asked permission for the “Black Death” anymore—a code in which Harry was given permission by Arthur to go all out to feast or kill any enemies in his path. Harry had told him a couple of times of his fear towards his increasing power, but he never really let Hamish saw him reaching the highest plateau. So now, seeing the innocent and inexperience Harry Hart in front of him—with his lack of natural defences and years of hardened mind—Hamish couldn’t imagine the horror of such pure soul being trapped with the most powerful and vicious monsters inside him.

Hamish had asked Ginger for a time for him to fully assess Harry’s condition—the extent of his amnesia and burst of powers. Ginger suggested that they should do the assessment inside the little greenhouse which Statesman built to rehabilitate Harry during his darkest days. It’s a little greenhouse in the estate that was built from a hard 50 cm thick glass, reinforced with titanium structures—which looked more like prison bars rather than a supporting structure. But Hamish appreciated their efforts. The greenhouse was filled colourful flowers—and most importantly—various butterflies from all over the world. Ginger said that the butterflies had a therapeutic effect on Harry. So she figured, Harry would be more willing to cooperate, or control his reaction over Hamish around his butterflies.

When the Statesman handler said that she was taking him to the greenhouse, Harry’s face lighted up like a kid who had been given presents and he almost leapt to hug Ginger. Hamish followed them far away and made sure to lock all of his power, so that Harry wouldn’t sense him on their way to the greenhouse. Once Ginger got him inside, Hamish waited outside and listened to their conversations while Ginger prepared Harry to meet him.

“John…” Ginger called Harry softly, and he hummed in reply. “You remember that nice man that visited you before? The one with the beard?”

There was a moment of silence before Harry answered. “The big scary man…” Harry’s voice wavered.

“Why are you so afraid of him, John?” Ginger asked.

“He’s not the same as you Ginger…” Harry answered softly.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not like you… or Tequila, or Whiskey, or even that boy he was with.”

“Are you saying he’s not… human?”

“I’m not sure… but he’s definitely different, Ginger.”

“Is he like you, then?”

“No.” Harry was quick answer that one. But then he went silent, as if searching for words. Hamish could hear his breath becoming weary. “When he stepped inside… something inside me screamed. I could feel it stirring in my stomach. It… wanted me to kill him…” Harry’s voice wavered and Hamish could hear him faintly sobbing. “I felt sick… it was horrifying”.

“So you were more afraid of what the man triggered in you?” Ginger asked.

“In a way…” Harry replied.

“Well, John… there’s something I need to tell you. I think you better sit down”. Ginger said. “That man is called _Merlin_ —“

“He’s a wizard?” Harry asked innocently.

“Wh—no, no,” Ginger scoffed. “That’s just what he’s called. And the boy who was with him is called _Galahad_ ”.

“Merlin and Galahad…?” asked Harry, starting to get the obvious connection.

“Yes. And they know you. They’re your friends from work.” Ginger explained slowly.

“They’re… my colleagues?” Harry asked, confused.

“Yes, John. And they know about your _condition_ —Merlin, especially. He understands it far better than I do.” Ginger said softly.

Hamish heard a sound of chair dragging across the floor and footsteps, Harry must had risen from his seat. “You want me to meet the big man again?” Harry’s voice timid.

“He can help you, John. He’s worked with you for almost 30 years—“

“30 years?” Harry asked—surprised. “Am I _that_ old? But I look—“

“You don’t age, John.” Ginger explained. “See, even I didn’t know about this until Merlin told me. He’s the only chance you have to learn about yourself. And who knows, maybe he can even help you control your condition,” she pleaded.

“…do you really think so?” Harry asked—unsure.

“Yes, John. I know it’s been almost two years, and you’ve gotten a bit better. But we both know you’re still far from being able to control yourself. I know you’re trying really hard, John. But we still had way too many near-fatal incidents…”

Harry choked. “I’m sorry, Ginger… I…” His voice quivered.

“Hey, it’s alright. I know it’s hard… you tried your best…” Ginger comforted him. “But we need more help, John. _You_ need more help—you need someone like Merlin”.

“Okay, Ginger…” Harry finally agreed. “But, please stay with me. Don’t leave me alone with him,” he pleaded.

“Of course, John. I’ll be right here.” Ginger said softly.

“Thank you…” Harry whimpered.

“So, Merlin’s waiting outside. Can I call him in?” asked Ginger.

Harry must have answer with a nod, because the next thing Hamish heard was Ginger’s footsteps coming towards the door. And in short moment, she was opening the door for him. Her eyes greeted Hamish warmly. “He’s ready for you,” she smiled. Hamish nodded and went inside with here.

As he walked towards Harry, Hamish could see the growing fear in his eyes. As a werewolf, he could smell fear—especially in humans. But he had never smelled it out of Harry. Mainly because Harry was so strong that no dark creature could ever scare him. But the person standing in front of Hamish right now was _consumed_ by fear, not of Hamish—but of himself. Hamish could feel the struggle Harry was going through as he drew closer to him. He could see the cold sweats running down his soft pale skin, the way he clutched his fingers tightly into a fist—trying to control his impulses.

The greenhouse was like a little colourful garden. The Statesman had put a round wooden table with 4 chairs surrounding it. Harry was seating when Hamish came in, but he unconsciously rose and backed away as Hamish drew closer. He stopped at the opposite end of the table from Harry and waited for Ginger to introduce him.

“Come on, John.” Ginger extended her hand at Harry, whose red eyes were fixed at Hamish. “It’s alright, I’m here. Come on”. Harry took Ginger’s hand, and she led him to Merlin.

Harry was practically hiding behind Ginger as he held her hand tightly. He chewed his lips nervously, while peeking a shy glance at Merlin from behind Ginger’s head. That was the moment when Hamish realized, that the Harry standing in front of him was the young Harry Hart—the sweet, innocent, boy from the days when he was human, when he knew nothing of Kingsman—the young Lord Hart who dreamed of becoming a Lepidopterist.

Ginger led Harry to stand beside her and faced Hamish. But the former Galahad kept looking down—afraid to look at Hamish in the eyes. “John, meet Merlin”.

“Hello, Harry.” Hamish offered his hand, and Harry winced a bit when he saw his movement.

Harry hesitated, he stole a quick look at Ginger who gestured for him to take Hamish’s hand. Then Harry took a timid look at Hamish’s hand, and reached for it. “Hello… “ He said softly.

Harry gasped when they touched, and Hamish had to fight hard to keep himself silent too; as a jolt of electricity ran through his arm and all over his body when Harry’s pale skin touch his. Harry looked up and their eyes finally met—but this time, it was different. Hamish knew that Harry felt the same sensation as he did. Ever since Harry tamed him, both of them shared an ingrained connection that should last as long as they live. When Valentine activated his signal, Hamish felt that connection broken—or interfered, somehow. And when Harry was shot, he couldn’t feel it at all. It was like a part of him was erased, and now hollow.

“You’re warm…” Harry murmured.

“Sorry?” Hamish blinked—surprised. Harry blushed and released his hand.

“Should we sit?” Ginger asked.

“Yeah, of course”. Hamish replied.

The three of them walked to the wooden table. Harry was going for the seat farthest from Hamish, but Ginger insisted that he sat next to him instead. He was silently hesitant at first, but took the seat in the end. Harry looked visibly awkward around Hamish. He kept nervously playing with his fingers—fidgeting. While his eyes kept glancing back and forth to Ginger, as if looking for comfort.

“So, Merlin here will be asking you some questions. You don’t mind do you?” Ginger started the conversation.

Harry chewed his lips, then he shook his head. “No”.

Hamish cleared his throat and gathered his strength to face Harry. “What’s the last thing that ye remember, Harry?”

Harry blinked. He paused and turned to Hamish, whose heart almost skipped a beat when he saw Harry’s big red eyes staring right at him.

“Is that my name?” he asked innocently—his face full of open curiosity.

Hamish shared a look with Ginger, who nodded at him, and then back to Harry. “Well, yes. Your name is Harry Hart”.

“Harry Hart…” Harry murmured to himself, as if feeling the sensation of the words in his tongue. “They always call me John here, but the name never felt right to me.” He turned back to Hamish with a shy smile.

“How does _Harry_ sound tae ye then?” Hamish asked.

 “I like the way you say it.” Harry looked at Hamish, his glance was soft and warm.

Hamish couldn’t help but flush a bit. He had been with Harry for almost 30 years, and the man could still make him hard as a rock in seconds with a single expression.

“Sorry, what was your question?” Harry asked.

“Uh—I was wondering what the last thing ye remembered when ye first woke up here?” said Hamish.

Harry looked down at his hand, studying his long fingers. But Hamish knew his mind was travelling down his memory lane. His eyes squinted as he tried to remember.

“I remember being sent to a boarding school by my father in…” He bit his lips. “Switzerland?” Harry looked to Hamish and he nodded in approval. “I met Nikolai there. He was adorable,” Harry giggled innocently. “I remember not seeing my father much, he was always travelling—he told me he was a tailor, but I never believed him”.

“Why didn’t you believe him?” Ginger asked.

Harry shrugged. “He always came home with bruises or cuts. Either his clients beat him up, or he’s hiding something from me. But I didn’t care. I learned not to ask questions I didn’t want the answers to”.

“And then father died and I had to settle all of the family’s properties and estates, it was rather boring and complicated. I hated it”. Harry pouted and crossed his arms like a sullen child. “But I was finally free. Father left me enough to last through three generations, so I thought since money wasn’t a problem, why not go out there and travel the world? I can finally be a lepidopterist and find new species of butterflies!” Harry cheered and grinned wide—not realizing that he was bearing his fangs right in front of Hamish and Ginger.

“And then what?” Hamish asked.

Harry’s face suddenly dimmed. His posture hunched and he went back to fiddling with his fingers. “Then I woke up here…”

Hamish was right after all. Harry could only remember his life before he was turned. He had no recollection whatsoever of the day he became a vampire, nor his lifelong servitude in Kingsman. Hamish was talking to a 16-year-old, innocent, Harry Hart. The Harry Hart who had not been tainted by the darkness, nor turned into a cold-blooded killer by Chester King.

“Can ye remember what happened when ye woke up?” Hamish continued.

Harry’s breath suddenly wavered like his pathway was being blocked. His hand reached for the back of his neck, as if taming the hair that stood on an end. “Yes, I can.” Harry answered in a low voice.

“Ye remember what ye did to the three—“

“Yes.” Harry said gritting his teeth. His hands rubbed the soft temple of his face that was no free from the aging lines that Harry used to put on. “I remember everything vividly.”

“Do ye only remember the moment when ye found the bodies or—“

“No. I remember draining their blood… I can still taste it in my mouth.” He drew a long shaky breath. “I heard them gagging for their lives—their heart beating painfully slower by the seconds…” Harry turned to Hamish, his red eyes now wet with tears. “But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to…” He whimpered.

Harry gazed into nothing, his thought far away, and his red eyes faded into almost brown. Tears were running down his face now. Hamish knew exactly what Harry was going through in this moment. He too still remembered vividly the vision Harry showed of the lost memories when he first turned—how he viciously killed two men by ripping their bodies apart. It pained him to force Harry to go through this torture again, to relive the moments when his humanity was being robbed from him. But Harry was too powerful to be left unchecked. And the only person who could control his monster is the _real_ Harry Hart.

“Ginger told me ye’ve made some progress over this past year. What have ye achieved, exactly?” Asked Hamish as he offered Harry his handkerchief. He whispered his gratitude and wiped the tears off his face.

“Well… I’m not as jumpy as I used to when I see blood near me. I could probably buy a couple of minutes for them to run away from me before I lose control again.” Harry explained—his voice was calmer now.

“Only a couple of minutes?” asked Hamish. The old Harry Hart could be drowned in a pool of human blood and still be in total control.

“Why? Did I use to do better?” asked Harry—intrigued.

Hamish gave him a soft smile. “Well, let’s just say Kingsman wouldn’t have hired ye in the first place, if ye cannae even control yerself every time someone prick their fingers”.

"Kingsman?” asked Harry.

“The organization that we worked for. Quite a similar one as Statesman, actually. Only we are based in London and went into the tailoring business instead of liquor.” Hamish explained patiently, purposely leaving out the fact that Kingsman had just been wiped out. One hard news at a time, he thought.

“So, I’m… a spy?” Harry asked with an incredulous look.

“Yes, ye were called Galahad,” continued Hamish.

“I’m a vampire _and_ a spy?!” Harry scoffed and looked at Ginger, but she was staring at him with a stern look. “Wait, Ginger told me the boy you’re with is called Galahad”.

“He is, and his real name is Eggsy. He was yer protégé. When ye died, we thought it best for him to take the mantle after ye.” Hamish said.

“I see… So, you’re saying I used to have total control of my condition?” asked Harry, Hamish replied with a nod. “How long did it take for me to control it?” By now Harry was already shifting his seating towards Hamish. His body leaning closer, and Hamish had to use every strength in him to stop himself from kissing Harry.

“About 6 months. Ye were quite impressive. But then, yer power wasn’t as powerful as it is now. So I guess it was easier for ye tae control it back when ye were first turned”. Hamish explained.

“What do you mean not as powerful? When was I turned exactly?” Harry’s face filled with curiosity.

“You were 19. And to answer yer first question…” Hamish drew a long breath. The topic of Harry’s power was something that the vampire used to avoid, mainly because even _he_ couldn’t even measure the full extent of it. “Vampires get stronger the longer they live. But, ye are different, Harry. Yer powers increased in exponential tae the standard of the rest of yer kind”.

Harry drew himself back a little. “What do you mean I’m _different_?”

Hamish hesitated for a second. He wondered if it was wise to tell the whole truth, considering Ginger was present in the room. “Don’t ye find it odd that the sunlight doesn’t harm ye? Or how ye’re not affected by Holy water—or the fact that ye cannae be killed with stakes?”

Harry’s red eyes grew wide. He looked down and studied his hands, but his thoughts were far away. “I just assumed that all vampires are like that…” He murmured absently.

“No, Harry. Even in yer early days as a vampire, ye were already much more powerful than the rest of yer kind. That’s why ye managed tae kill them all”. Hamish said.

“I killed my own kind…?” Harry asked—quite shocked.

“Ye didnae want what happened tae ye tae ever befall on anyone else. Aside from saving the humans fae world destructions, it was yer lifelong mission tae eradicate all vampires from the face of this earth”. Hamish smiled.

Harry was left speechless at the revelation. “That’s… quite a high standard to look up to…” He looked at Hamish and his eyes were filled with guilt and shame. “Merlin, I can’t even function whenever there’s blood around. I kept breaking things because I couldn’t control my strength. And sometimes, I couldn’t sleep at night because of all the voices I heard—it drove me crazy—“

Harry gritted his teeth—his jaw clenched. “I’m not the person you knew, Merlin… I barely have any control, I’m afraid of my own powers—I…” Harry looked away and searched inside his head for words. “I’m _broken_ ”.

“No, no. Harry, ye just forgot,” Hamish instinctively took Harry’s hand. The vampire winced at the touch, but was quick to settle into the warmth of Hamish’s big hand. “Ye just forgot... That’s why I’m here. I’m going tae make ye remember. Ye’ll be better soon”.

Harry blushed and stared at him in silence—his eyes soft and hopeful. “Thank you, Merlin”. He said gently.

The three of them spent the rest of the day in the greenhouse. Merlin continuing his assessment on Harry’s condition, and Harry asked him about his forgotten life. They stopped at around 8, when it was time for Harry to feed from the blood bag that the Statesman had provided and returned to his cell. It was only when Harry went back inside his cell that Hamish noticed, the amnesiac knight had been holding his hand all the way from the greenhouse to the medical wing.


	5. The Tests

“Ginger, I’m not sure about this”. Hamish said—concerned, as he watched Harry through the one-way mirror.

Harry looked so relaxed and peaceful in his padded cell, reading his butterfly encyclopedia with bright curiosity, flipping every pages with childlike excitement. Hamish’s amnesiac lover had no idea what Ginger and him had planned for him.

“You think we should try a test he’s unfamiliar with instead?” she asked. “I mean, we have plenty that you guys don’t—“

“No. It’s not that… It’s—“

“I thought we agreed”. Ginger cut him off. “Not only do we engage the fight-or-flight synapse paths, but it could directly stir memories of his past. His training.”

They _had_ agreed. The logic was sound to Hamish, though a little speculative, but that wasn’t the problem. Hamish wasn’t certain if he could put Harry— _this_ Harry, the soft and innocent lepidopterist—through what was coming. He wondered what _his_ Harry—the cold and brash Kingsman agent—would say about this if Hamish could somehow ask him. Would the former Galahad agree to it? There was no way to find out, so in the end Hamish merely nodded and hoped he wasn’t making the wrong decision.

Ginger tapped her clipboard and it began. Hamish drew a long breath. _Come on, Harry_. Hamish thought. _I know ye’re in there somewhere_.

Harry immediately realized the water coming into the room. He might have lost his memories, but his hyper senses were still as alive as ever. Harry looked around the room in shock as the water rushed over his legs, soaking through his tracksuit. He glanced to the one-way mirror, his senses must be telling him of Ginger and Hamish’s presence.

“Ginger?” His red eyes glowed as he stared into the mirror. “Ginger, is that you?” Harry ran towards the one-way mirror; the water was up to his waist.

“Ginger, help me!” He shouted in fear as the water rushed above his stomach.

After getting no response from Ginger, Harry rushed to stand on top of his bed in an effort to keep his head above the water’s surface. But the water was filling up the room so fast, that he merely delayed the inevitable moments. “Oh, God! What’s happening—help!”

Hamish watched nervously as the water rose all the way up and drowned Harry completely. Harry flailed and started to panic in the cold water—bubbles gushing out of his mouth as he still desperately cried for help. Harry didn’t even try to save his breath, he hardly noticed the shower hung on his cell’s wall that could save him from drowning.

“Get him out. Now!” Hamish couldn’t take it anymore.

“Wait.” Ginger said. “His instincts should kick in at any moment...”

Hamish forced himself to watch Harry drowned for several more seconds. But then Harry’s eyes suddenly glared, turning the blue water into a red shade—like a pool of blood. Then a swirl of black energy started to ooze from the surface of Harry’s pale skin. The black energy started to blast across the room in havoc, like tentacles trying to find a way out of the flooded cell. Then it broke through the thick bulletproof glass of the one-way mirror, and if it weren’t for Hamish’s werewolf instinct & speed, Ginger would have been stabbed by Harry’s energy.

The water flooded into the observation room, drenching Hamish and Ginger along with it. Hamish grabbed Ginger and shielded her from the force of the water with his body. When the rush of the water subsided, Hamish felt the hair on the back of his neck stood. The puddles left from the flood of water suddenly started to freeze, Hamish turned his head to the direction of the one-way mirror and found Harry kneeling on the floor—terrified and gasping for breath.

The black energy was still swirling out of him like wild tentacles and Harry seemed to be in no control of it. He writhed in fear as the black energy raged and destroyed the room—tearing the padded walls.

“Shit. We need to sedate him or he’ll destroy the whole base!” Ginger said. She reached into her right pocket and pulled out a huge syringe.

“Wait!” Hamish grabbed her hand. “I’ll calm him down.” He said.

“Merlin, he’s too dangerous. I’ve seen those black things tore through one of my staffs once! He’ll rip you to pieces!” said Ginger, her eyes filled with horror.

“I know full well what he’s capable of”, Hamish said in a grim tone. “But he needs to learn to control his powers again—with or _without_ his memory!”

Ginger looked like she was about to protest. “Trust me, I can handle him.” Hamish said. She stared at him for several seconds, debating her options. Then she finally nodded and gave Hamish her approval. Hamish released her hand and nodded back. Then he turned and slowly made his way towards Harry, who was still kneeling on the floor, drenched wet—his body trembling.

Harry was clutching his hair with his hands—clawing in fear—as he whimpered under his breath. His fear was so immense that Hamish almost couldn’t bear the smell of it. He was muttering things incoherently, telling himself to stop, or simply writhing in pain from the blast of his own black energy. As Hamish drew closer, the black things swirling around Harry started to notice him. One of them attacked Hamish and almost stab his heart. He barely managed to deflect it.

Hamish had seen Harry in his full power in his _Black Death_ scenarios—but this was a new experience for him. He had never seen Harry used the black energy before. In fact, he had never even sensed its presence inside of Harry—ever. This monstrous thing that seemed to claw out from inside Harry’s body felt like an entirely different presence that the one that Hamish used to feel from his lover. It felt hollow, and pure evil.

“Harry... it’s me, Merlin...” Hamish said as he drew closer.

Harry winced when he heard his voice. Hamish could see his bright red eyes peeking from behind the swirl of black energy.

“Me—Merlin...?” Harry whimpered softly, his voice muffled by the black energy that was now almost encasing him.

“Yes, it’s Merlin. Listen, ye need tae calm down, Harry. Ye need tae control this”. Hamish said patiently.

“I can’t!” Harry cried out. “It’s too strong—I can’t stop it!”

“Yes, ye can, Harry. Ye’ve done it before. Just reach inside yerself and tell it tae stop.” Hamish said.

“NO!!!” Harry shouted and the room started to vibrate.

Ginger was about to run inside the cell but Hamish brought up his hand to signal her to stop. The situation was getting threatening; Hamish could feel it. Not only _this_ Harry was unable to control his power, he was also significantly more dangerous than the Harry that Hamish used to know. If Hamish didn’t get him to stop soon, he might really destroy everything like Ginger warned.

“I can’t go near them... they’ll take over...” Harry sobbed. He was shaking his head behind the swirl of black energy, like trying to keep himself awake. Harry groaned in pain, tears were running down his face. “Merlin... I’m so scared...”

Hamish felt like his heart was slashed into pieces as he watched the love of his life being tortured by his own power before him. He wished he could jump and just wrap Harry in his arms, but the black energy was wrapping him tight—like it didn’t want to let Harry go. No one can stop this but Harry himself, so Hamish gritted his teeth and gathered his will so he could be strong for Harry. It’s no time for emotion, Harry needed him.

“Harry, I know it’s scary... I know that what’s inside ye is too strong—” Hamish was interrupted as he had to dodge one of Harry’s black swirl that charged for his head. “But only _ye_ can control it, Harry. Ye’re the only one that can stop them”. Hamish shouted.

“I can’t! I don’t know how!” Harry shouted.

“Yes, ye _can_. Trust me, Harry.” Hamish stared intently at Harry with his big green eyes. _His_ Harry was in there somewhere; he was sure of it. “Ye are stronger than they are, Harry. I know ye are”.

Harry’s bright red eyes stared at Hamish—hesitating. Hamish could hear his breathing getting calmer. “Tell me what to do...” He whispered.

“Close yer eyes...” Hamish said softly, and Harry did so obligingly. “Focus on my voice. If ye feel like they’re taking over, listen tae my voice—focus on me. I will not let it take ye away”.

Harry nodded with his eyes still closed. “Now, take a deep breath. And reach inside yerself... Face the darkness, and tell it tae _stop_ ”. Hamish said.

Harry took a deep breath and went quiet. The black swirl of energy suddenly froze, the room stopped vibrating. For several seconds, Harry seemed to be gaining control. But then his body started to shake harshly, and he sounded like he was choking for air.

“Country roads, take me home...” Hamish started singing. “To the place I belong... West Virginia Mountain mamma...”

Harry’s body slowly stopped shaking. He could hear Hamish’s singing. His breaths beginning to calm. “Take me home...” Hamish continued to sing.

“Country roads...” The black swirl started to fade and Hamish could feel the temperature warming. Then the monstrous energy completely disappeared, it was sucked back inside Harry’s body.

Harry opened his eyes slowly—still unsure if he was in control. He drew a shaky breath and met Hamish’s green eyes. Hamish walked up to meet him, but he was stopped in his track. Harry jumped and wrapped Hamish’s muscular body with both of his arms. His head rested at Hamish shoulder and he sobbed desperately—like a child. Harry clutched Hamish’s sweater with his long fingers, like he was afraid to let go.

For a fleeting second, Hamish debated with himself if it was right to reciprocate Harry in front of Ginger. Or if it was fair to do it at all while Harry wasn’t himself—and in his most vulnerable moment. But Hamish was not as strong as his lover—the brave and ever the professional agent Galahad. He waited for almost two years to finally able to see his lover again—all the while thinking that he was dead. He’s not going to stand by and let Harry cried in fear by himself. So Hamish reached for Harry’s head, and gently ran his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I’m here, Harry... Ye’ve done well...” Hamish whispered into Harry’s ear. “Ye made them go away...”

“I thought I’d lost it...” Harry sobbed. “But then I heard your voice...”

Hamish glanced to the observation room and found Ginger watching. She gave him a nod and then walked out of the room. Leaving Harry and Hamish alone. They stayed in each other’s embrace until Harry stopped crying. It pained Hamish to see Harry—the love of his life, his _master_ —in such a frail state. After a couple of minutes, Harry pulled himself away and apologized for wetting Hamish’s sweater with his drenched tracksuit. Then Ginger came in and brought Harry a fresh set of clothes.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you saying that you drowned me in purpose?” Harry asked—upset.

“Ye’ve forgotten who ye are, Harry”. Merlin said. “We hoped... we hoped that this might jog yer memory”.

“You’ve done this before when you were young.” Ginger continued. “It was part of the recruitment test when you were applying for Kingsman. You managed to escape”.

Harry glared at Hamish and Ginger with an incredulous look. The quartermasters had taken him to the greenhouse again, to further calm him—and in a way, to apologize for having him go through the painful test without getting any meaningful result.

“Look, Harry, when ye were younger, ye were offered a way tae use yer curse fae good. Tae harness all of that power inside ye tae protect and save humans from evil. Ye became a Kingsman agent”. Hamish explained.

“I very much doubt that I’d work for anyone who drowns their employees”. Harry said—upset. He crossed his arms and pouted. Harry was dressed in Hamish’s field jacket, Hamish lent it to him to keep him warm. The jacket was visibly oversized on him. With Harry looking like his 19-year-old self, and behaving the way he did; he was disturbingly childlike.

Hamish offered him a hot cup of tea that he had prepared himself. Harry took it reluctantly. But his eyes grew wide in surprise when he sipped the tea and felt that it was brewed and prepared just the way he liked it. “This—” He glanced up at Hamish, his eyes filled with astonishment. “This is very nice... thank you, Merlin”. Harry said softly, as if he didn’t want to forgive Merlin yet for drowning him.

Hamish couldn’t look at Harry. It was too painful and unfair that the love of his life was sitting right in front of him, hurting from the pain that Hamish had purposely inflicted. He wondered if it were selfish for him to make Harry go through all of this just so that he could get _his_ old Harry back.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that, Jo—Harry.” Ginger said. “But we need you to remember. We need you to be in full control of your power again”.

_I need you_. Hamish thought.

“You have a great power, Harry. But we both know that it can be very dangerous when you leave it uncontrolled...” Ginger continued, a flash of pain crossed through her eyes.

Ginger’s words stabbed through Harry like a knife. The former Galahad suddenly looked so guilty. Hamish almost felt angry at Ginger for guilt-tripping Harry into submission. He knew what it’s like to feel what Harry felt. Harry didn’t kill all of those people because he _wanted_ it. He wasn’t in fucking control, for Christ sake. Hamish had to fight to keep his emotions from clouding his judgement. Ginger might be bordering on manipulative, but her objective was fair. It was in the best interest to gain back Harry’s control over his power.

“So you will make me go through these tests until I remember again?” Harry asked. His eyes glanced at Hamish pleadingly. It broke Hamish’s heart.

He couldn’t answer him. He couldn’t tell his love that _yes_ , you will go through the torture of loosing control over yourself, and facing the demon inside you, until you finally remember who you really are.

“I’m afraid so, Harry.” Hamish said hesitantly.

“What if... I lose control again? Like today...” Harry asked, his red eyes were full of weary.

“Then I will be there for ye”. Hamish said with resolution, his big green eyes staring into Harry’s with fiery confidence. Harry’s was pulled into a silent pause. His face flushed pink, and he glanced away from Hamish. Opting to look down on his tea and took a pretentious sip from it.

The silence between them was broken with a beep coming from Ginger’s glasses. She tapped the side and listened seriously to the person on the other side. Hamish wondered if it were Whiskey. Both the Statesman agent and Eggsy had just arrived from Glastonbury, after the young Kingsman had successfully planted a tracking device inside Charlie’s bloodstream. Hamish couldn’t find Statesman’s tracking technology agreeable. He could think of a dozen more proper and gentleman ways to plant something as simple as a tracking device on someone’s body. But alas, it was not the time nor place for such debates. Eggsy did the job, and they got what they needed. Now they only needed to wait for Charlie to make some sort of contact with his girlfriend.

“That was one of my team, Charlie has contacted Carla. It seems that she’s been infected with the virus too. They’re going to meet up at one of Poppy’s lab in Italy. Charlie will get her an antidote there”. Ginger explained.

“Great, then we should fly Eggsy and Whiskey there tae get the antidote. Maybe we can replicate it.” Hamish said. He couldn’t wait for this whole mission to finish and focus all of his mind and energy on getting Harry back to his old self.

“I was actually thinking that… Harry should go to Italy _with_ Eggsy and Whiskey.” Ginger said as she bit her lips.

“What?!” Harry and Hamish shouted at the same time.

“Ginger, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Harry said.

“He’s not ready tae be out there in the field yet”. Hamish said, visibly frustrated.

“Think about it, Merlin. There’s no better way to jog his memory than to put him in a real-life field situation. It should trigger his years of training and experience”. Ginger argued.

“But he doesn’t remember the trainings, Ginger. He couldn’t even remember how tae escape the water test!” There was a faint of anger in Hamish’s words. “He wouldn’t be able tae defend himself out there!”

Ginger raised one of her brows, she looked more curious about Hamish’s reaction than insulted. “Well, it’s not like Harry can _actually_ get hurt.” Ginger exchanged looks with Harry, who looked more confused than nervous about the idea. His expression was like a kid who was watching his parents fight. “I’m sure he won’t even come home with a scratch.” Ginger smiled.

Hamish clenched his jaw—unable to argue her point. “What if he loses control again, then? If he goes, then I’ll go with him!” Hamish words came out more like an order than request.

“You know you can’t do that, Merlin.” Ginger scowled. “Anyway, I’ve managed to synthesize a sedative that’s strong enough to calm Harry down. It’s what I’ve been using to handle all of his rabid episodes for the past year. Whiskey and Eggsy will be equipped with it, so they’d be able to handle the situation should Harry lose control”.

“I’m still not comfortable with this…” Hamish huffed in frustration, glancing away from Ginger and Harry. He knew Ginger was right. Harry was practically invulnerable, nothing could hurt him in the field. And Ginger’s sedative must have worked, or else the Statesman would have been destroyed by Harry long ago. But he still couldn’t let Harry go to the field. He was stressful enough in a controlled environment, he couldn’t imagine _this_ Harry—the soft lepidopterist—going through all the stress of a field mission.

“If it’s any consolation, he will still be able to hear your voice through the comm, Merlin”. Ginger said. “You’ll still be able to calm him down like you did today”.

Hamish chewed his lips. He turned to Ginger, eyes fixed at her brown eyes. The annoying thing about her was that her logic was always sound. She stayed calm and calculated during any scenarios, irritatingly much better than Hamish. She meant no ill will by putting Harry through these tests, her objective was only to gain him control over his power back. So that Harry wouldn’t hurt anyone like he did to her staffs. Hamish could see this in her eyes.

“It’s alright, Merlin…” Harry suddenly reached for his hand. Hamish almost winced when his soft, cold fingers touched his. “If it really could bring my memory back, then I’ll do it”. Harry smiled sadly, Hamish could feel that he was holding back fear inside.

“Harry—“

“I’ll be fine as long as I hear your voice.” Harry said softly. “Promise you’ll sing to me again if I get scared?” It’s ridiculous how Harry could still produce a puppy face with those menacing red eyes. There were many things that Harry Hart could do which made Hamish go weak in the knees or silence him in a beat, one of them was the face that Harry was making right now.

“Of course, Harry.” Hamish answered—his eyes still filled with worry.

Harry turned to Ginger. He looked like a boy who was braving himself to face the monster in his closet. “Alright, Ginger. I’ll go to Italy with _Eggy_ and Whiskey”.

 

* * *

 

 

Hamish rushed inside Harry’s cell as soon as the door unlocked, a bag full of Kingsman gadget was in his right hand. “Harry, are ye—“ He looked up to find Harry shirtless, but already wearing his navy blue pinstriped Kingsman trousers and oxfords. “Sorry, I didnae mean tae—I’ll come back when ye’re ready”. Hamish quickly turned away—blushing.

“Merlin, wait.” Harry said from behind. Hamish stopped, but didn’t turn to Harry as he was still hiding his flushed face. “I was actually wondering if you could help me…” Harry chuckled softly. “You gave me so many things, I don’t quite know how to wear them all… or I guess, I don’t _remember_ ”.

Hamish drew a long breath, then braved himself to face Harry. His heart beat faster as he laid eyes on Harry’s beautifully lean and ripped body. Hamish remembered seeing that soft, broad chest for the first time 30 years ago. The night when the vampire—whose body was practically 2 times smaller than him—pinned him down with such ease. It was easy for people to think that Harry would be the one bending over for Hamish, where in fact, it was quite the opposite. Hamish might be big and muscular, but he wanted nothing but to splay out and give his all beneath Harry, as he listened to him whispering commands in his ears with his silky voice.

“How can I help ye?” asked Hamish as he walked towards Harry.

“Well, you can help with the tie for starter”. Harry chuckled shyly, and Hamish felt like clawing his face to calm his impulses. At this rate, Harry would get him as hard as a rock in a minute.

“Sure, put yer shirt on and I’ll make the tie fae ye”. Hamish said as he took the white shirt from the padded wall where it was hung. He was about to turn and gave the shirt to Harry when he found the vampire already standing right behind him— _so close_ , that Hamish gasped and felt like he was about to be pinned to the wall.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” Harry asked innocently.

Hamish couldn’t help but stray his gaze through every part of Harry’s body—his beautiful pecs, the soft long neck that he loved to nibble, those lean but ever so ripped long arms that could elegantly lift or pin Hamish down with such ease. “N—No, I—“ Hamish forced himself to focus on Harry’s eyes instead of his ravishing body. “Here, put this on”. He shoved the shirt at Harry and looked away.

As Harry put his shirt on, Hamish escaped him and walked towards the bed to pick up the tie. He stole a glance and watched Harry clumsily buttoned his shirt, like his fingers had forgotten the seamless flow that it used to go through. Somehow Hamish found it adorable, that Harry seemed to struggle with the whole thing. He was so used to Harry being so _perfect_ , so well-mannered and disturbingly elegant in almost every way, that sometimes it could get a little intimidating for him. It was nice to see Harry being a little less than perfect—a little human.

“Alright, I’m ready now.” Harry smiled and walked towards him after he finished the last button. He stood in front of Hamish—a little too close—that he started to wonder if Harry was doing it on purpose. Hamish brought Harry’s collar up and wrapped the tie around his neck. He forced himself to focus on the tie, not at Harry’s lips which were stubbornly pink despite his pale complexion, or at his gorgeous jawline.

“Merlin…” Harry called up his code name, so softly in his silky, posh voice; that Hamish wished he had said it in his real name.

“Yes, Harry?” Hamish answered while stubbornly keeping his eyes on the tie.

“Were we…” Harry paused and trailed off for a while, chewing his lips as he searched for words. “How do you know how I take my tea?”

“Sorry?” The question caught Hamish off guard, and it was too late before he realized that he had looked up and met Harry’s big red eyes.

“The tea that you gave me in the greenhouse, it was _perfect_. Just how I liked it. How did you know?” Harry asked innocently, his red eyes fixed at Hamish.

“I was yer handler fae almost 30 years. That’s long enough tae know everything about ye.” Hamish said plainly, trying to avoid the question.

Harry squinted at him, like he wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “How about that song you sang to me?” He asked.

“What of it?”

“How is it that it could calm me down almost instantly? Is it my favourite song?” Harry asked.

Hamish couldn’t help but chuckled. “Nae, ye hated it.” He was finally finished with the tie, so he brought Harry’s collar down and gave it a last sweep. “There, it’s done”.

Harry’s confusion was etched on the faint lines of his forehead. There was a thread of disappointment in his eyes when Hamish backed away from him and headed to the bed to pick up Harry’s Kingsman suit. “I don’t understand… why did you sing it to me then?”

“I needed something tae kick off yer subconscious.” Hamish shrugged, as he walked back to Harry. “And I knew not even an amnesia could make ye forget how ye utterly despised that song”.

Hamish stood behind Harry and spread open the suit. “Come on.” He gestured for Harry tuck himself inside the suit. Then Hamish went around in front of him to button the suit. He couldn’t help but took a step back and observe Harry from head to toe as he was now fully dressed in his Kingsman suit. His lips curved a satisfied smirk. _This_ was more the Harry Hamish knew, _his_ Harry.

Harry blushed. “How do I look?”

“Why don’t ye see fae yerself?” Hamish gestured for Harry to turn and look in the one-way mirror.

Harry turned around and watched himself in the mirror, his face lighting up in a delightful surprise. His fingers ran through the striped tie on his neck that Hamish had beautifully made, all the way through the lapels of the suit. He took his time to feel the weight of the suit on his body, gauging the fitting that encased his limbs like a second skin, feeling the extreme flexibility of the fabric—which Hamish had engineered himself—as he moved.

“ _Eggy_ was wearing a similar one, is this some sort of uniform?” Harry finally turned to Hamish.

“Of sort. It is also an armour. The suit is completely bulletproof.” Hamish explained with a smile.

Harry smiled brightly, acknowledging his amazement on the technology. “Am I set, then? Is this all I have to wear?”

Hamish tilted his head, his green eyes observing the fluff on Harry’s curly brown hair. He had always preferred Harry’s natural curls than his slicked back Kingsman hair. One of the joy of waking up next to him was to watching those adorable curls covered his eyes, then running his fingers through them as he woke him up every morning. Hamish let out a long sigh as he remembered the sweet sensation.

“You used to slick your hair back with this.” Hamish grabbed the Kingsman pomade from the bag he carried and gave it to Harry.

“Like _Eggy_?” Harry asked.

“No, not quite like how Eggsy does it,” Hamish chuckled softly.

“Well… I never really use anything like this here…” Harry said. “Do you mind helping me?” Harry asked shyly and handed the pomade back to Hamish.

Hamish’s heart started beating faster as he took the pomade from Harry’s hand—he wondered if the vampire could hear it. He slowly opened the cap of the pomade, buying as much time as he gathered his strength to calm his impulses. _Deep breath_ , Hamish said to himself. _Focus_. He took a swipe from the pomade and applied them on both of his hands. Hamish gestured for Harry to sit on the bed, and he did so obediently. _This_ Harry was so obliging, so obedient, and so dependent on Hamish that he wanted nothing but to hide and protect him from the darkness—from the humans.

Hamish ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, silently gasping and choking inside him as he held out the burst of emotions. His hair was still as soft as it ever was—still stubbornly refusing the pull from the pomade no matter how thick it had been applied. It’s no wonder Harry was always late. God knows how long he spent taming his hair. It wasn’t until awhile that Hamish noticed Harry’s sharp gaze on him. The vampire gave him a look that almost convinced Hamish that he was facing the _real_ Harry Hart. A fond and warm longing look, that made Hamish felt sick. He hated that he’s sending Harry back out there, after all that had happened. He had watched Harry died once, he wouldn’t survive seeing it for the second time.

“Ye dinnae have tae do this, Harry.” Hamish said, his voice faintly coarse.

“What if I want to?” Harry said softly, his red eyes beamed with longing and affection as Hamish continued to comb his hair.

“But why?! Ye dinnae know what’s out there, what if—“

Hamish was pulled into a pause as Harry suddenly reached for his hand. He gently rose, without breaking his sharp gaze at Hamish—his soft hand taking Hamish’s fingers like he was about to pull and kiss them with his pink lips.

“I’ll take the risk if it can make me remember you again…” He whispered fondly.

Hamish felt like his heart had been ripped out from his chest. He choked in silence, fighting the tears that had started watering his eyes. He felt _warm_ —the warmest he had ever been since Harry left him two years ago. He never thought that he’d feel this again.

Harry’s thumb stroked his fingers and snapped Hamish from his thoughts. “You said we were friends…” His eyes flicked from Hamish lips and gently back to his eyes. “Was that really all we were?” He whispered in his silky voice, the words almost felt like a binding spell in Hamish’s ears. “ _Just_ friends?”

That was it. That was all Harry needed to do to strip Hamish off his defences. He just wanted to give in, he wanted his Harry so much it ached him. “Harry…” He choked. How could Hamish sum up the bond that they had for over 30 years? How does one explain the immortal debt he owed Harry for saving his life? For breaking him out of the jail of his dark curse?

The door suddenly unlocked, the sound sending Hamish away from where he stood. As he fought to catch his breath, Hamish glanced at the door and found Ginger standing there with her clipboard. “Ready?” She asked plainly—not suspicious at all by the tense atmosphere between the two men.

Hamish could feel Harry’s glance on him, like he was pleading for him to look at him for one last time before he goes. “Aye. He’s ready”. But Hamish couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t be able to send Harry away if he had to stare into that red abyss in his eyes.


End file.
